


The Author & The Host

by TheStoryTeller_with_an_Eyepatch



Series: the Manor's strange residents [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can you tell?, Don't get me wrong, Gen, Gore, Host is my son, I love him, I mean he's a tsundere, I torture him and Dark too much, LET DARK BE SOFT DAMMIT, M/M, Poor Host, Trauma, both I love, but I still love angst too, but still, by that I mean Author gouged his eyes out, cause we are, dammit, it's too fun to write, just Edward finding him on his floor, let Dark be soft, no beta we die like people, not on camera tho, pls help my anxious boi, seriously, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryTeller_with_an_Eyepatch/pseuds/TheStoryTeller_with_an_Eyepatch
Summary: The Author and The Host are two sides of a coin.The Author may have done things too dastardly to speak of, but The Host gained all of the Trauma and his own.
Relationships: The Host & Darkiplier, The Host/Dr.Iplier
Series: the Manor's strange residents [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926829
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. The Author's Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> I love Host don't @ me for torturing him.
> 
> enjoy!

The Author was terrifying.  
All of the Ego’s (even those who weren’t created when he was alive) could attest to this.  
Dark would never deny that even he (the most powerful and feared Ego) found Author at least a little scary.

The Host was a different story.  


\---

Dr.Iplier would never forget the day that he found Author bleeding out on his cabin floor.

It had been his monthly visit to check up on the Author, have a small lunch with him, and provide news of the outside world.  
The Doctor was the only one who kept in contact with him, after the Jim’s incident.

He knew the Author regretted it. Even if he never said it aloud, the sadness and regret was palpable in those golden eyes of his.

Edward strode down the forgotten path, observing the little flitting leaves of sunset. He really did love Fall, it always put a smile on his scruffy face. He listened to the chattering of Squirrels, no doubt King’s doing. The King of the Squirrels was always fond of the Author, but had no courage to visit most of the time. Edward smiled a little more, as a particularly big orange, brown, and white squirrel came out of the tree’s, following the Doctor.

Seem’s the Author had a special guest.  
He was sure to like that.

The farther Edward went into the forest, the more wildlife and colors he saw. No one ever ventured this far, accept for the inhabitants and a select few.  
The Doctor was one of the few, and he felt…. well , he was honored he got to see the forest’s true beauty.

The Biggest Squirrel chittered, and hoppen onto his shoulder. He laughed, surprisingly at ease.  
“Hey, King. you coming to see Author too?” King chittered again, nodding and curling around his shoulders. He hummed, and continued on, the Cabin just coming into view.

He sighed, and hefted his backpack. Edward really missed Author, no matter what kind of asshole front he put up.  
The Doctor was now directly in front of the small log Cabin. He could see only one candle in a window, letting him know Author was expecting him, and he could come inside.  
Strange, though. He hadn’t answered Edwards calls.

He pushed the door open, surveying the state of the tiny living room.  
“Author?”

It was a mess.

Papers scattered all throughout the floor and every surface possible, some covered in coppery brown stains. The Doctor could identify it as blood. He picked up a stack, observing how the handwriting went from neat and small, to frantic and messy.  
This was indeed concerning.

King chittered fretfully on his shoulder, worrying about the state of his friend.  
Edward was in the same state.  
“Author..?” he called again. He heard the old floorboards shift in the bedroom. He made a beeline or it, startling poor King, and making the Squirrel hold onto him tighter.

He swung open the door, calling louder, more frantically.  
“Author?!”

The Man in question was in a puddle of his own blood, sitting back against his bed, with his head down. The Doctor’s eyes widened, and he rushed to Author. He knew the other was hemophilic, and he did not want his friend to die. “Author! What happen-.....” the Author tilted his head up, his raven hair (normally slicked back to keep out of his face) was messy, also covered in blood.  
What the Doctor paused about, what his eyes.  
Or lack thereof.

Edward gasped, as he stared into two empty eye sockets that once housed the Author’s golden eyes. He was bleeding heavily, rivers of blood pouring down his face.  
It looked like he had clawed them out himself, the deep red substance staining his hands.

And he had the NERVE, to smile at Edward. 

“Hello, Doctor….” he rasped, and said Doctor shook his head.  
“No! Shut up! I'm going to take you to the Hospital.”

“Leave me- leave Him to die with his work.” the sudden change of person startled Edward, but not enough to stop him. The words were sleepy and resigned, as if the Author had accepted his death.

The Doctor was not about to let that happen. Not on his watch.

King whimpered on his shoulder, jumping off and turning human. Edward was momentarily grateful that He had his regular red T-shirt along with cargo pants on. He kneeled down to the Injured man, shaking his shoulder to try and keep him awake. “Don’t die on me! Please!” Author perked his head at King’s distressed voice.  
“King?...” he asked.  
“Yes! Yes, it’s me!”

The Doctor scrambled for his phone, dialling the first number.

A mix of German and English filtered through the phone’s speakers.

“Henrik! Yes, I’ve got a patient. Yes, I’m with him. No, i'm not anywhere you can get to. Just prepare a surgery room!” with that, he hung up on the confused German Doctor, and dialled another number.  
Dark’s number.

“Edward?”

He had never been so glad to hear the Entities’ voice.  
“Dark! I need you here. Stat!” he was starting to become more and more panicked.

“Slow down. Where are you? Who is hurt?” he sounded calm and professional, as always.

“Author’s Cabin! It-it’s- oh, God. Dark, he ripped his own eyes out.” he whispered the last sentence, covering his mouth. He wasn’t squeamish, his profession didn’t tolerate it.  
Bt when he saw his friend bleeding out from his eyes,  
He couldn’t help it.  
He felt the collar of his shirt getting wet, and that’s when he noticed he was crying.  
There was silence from the other side of the phone .  
Then, Dark sucked in a breath of air.  
“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

And indeed, he was.

Dark stormed through the door, took one look at the Author and the two Ego’s panicking, and sighed. “King, pick up Author. Edward, calm down.” he instructed, and the two did their best. Dark took Edward’s and King’s shoulder’s in his hands, and teleported through the Void.

Dark took charge, picking up the Author from King and rushing him into the Hospital, Edward on his heels. A Nurse’s eyes widened, as she rushed to them. “Are you looking for Dr. Schneeplestein?”

“Yes! Yes! Now, where is he? We have a hemophilic patient bleeding out and I need to help him.” Dr. Iplier said impatiently. By now, the Author was passed out.  
The Nurse showed them to the room where Henrik was in, a surgery room that had just been prepared. Dark set Author on the examination table, and stepped away, finally noticing he had blood on his suit. “Fuck.” he murmured to himself absentmindedly. Henrik cursed in German.

“Ve need to get him hooked up to und I.V!”

“On it. Dark?” he turned his head, and met the gaze of a Doctor. “Out.” and for once, Dark didn’t sneer, didn’t boom about how he wouldn’t be ordered around.  
He did as told, and got out, closing the door behind him.  
Edward was in Doctor mode. Dark knew he shouldn’t be tampered with.

King scrambled down the Hallway impossibly fast, huffing when he got to Dark. his crown was askew, and his eyes were filled to the brim with worry.

“Took me so… long… to find you….” he said in between catching his breath. Dark chuckled, then realized (with the help of his aching leg) that he’d forgotten his cane.  
“Damn, Dark….. Didn’t know you could move that fast….” King collapsed on one of the seats positioned in the Hall, Dark following suit. King tilted his head. “You're gonna stay?” Dark grunted, looking away. “If only for Edward, yes.” King smiled slightly, and nodded. “Okay. “

King knew Dark was secretly worried about the Author as well.  
Dark wouldn’t admit it, though.  
They were still processing what the hell happened.


	2. The Rise of The Host.

Dark had gone home, dragging King with him, as Edward insisted to keep by Author’s side.  
About two weeks later, was when the Doctor came home, with a new addition of one Author.  
Or was it?

He was…. Quiet, skittish. Afraid. This new Author…. Was hardly Author at all.  
He was someone else.

He was always muttering to himself, staying at the Doctors side. He mostly stayed either in the clinic, or the underground library (it had recently been created, but for who?).  
Dark knew this wasn’t the same person. The Author was bold, charming, and magnetic. This new person seemed to not want anybody to talk to him. Accept the Doctor, and occasionally King.  
He seemed to…. Change.the words ‘the Host’ came out of his mouth. Dark wondered if that was his name now. He supposed he’d call the writer by the name until confirmed.  
This was not the same man.  
one of the few times he actually talked to the Ego’s, was when he was left alone in a room.  
Like now. 

Dr.Iplier was making tea for Host (Coffee for himself), when he was pulled away for an incident with another Ego, leaving Host alone in the Kitchen.

Clutching a cup of Chamomile, and shaking with anxiety.

Host really wasn’t in the mood for a panic attack, or social interaction in general.  
But, he had to keep his promise to his doctor.  
After all, what good was he if he didnt?  
Host shook his head, muttering narrations under his breath. The words came as easy as breathing to the Host, letting him see and know what was around him with scary insight.  
Well, Host found it scary.  
If anybody else knew, would they find it scary?  
Host thought they would.

He had heard stories of the Author, who he was before the Host came into being. Edward spoke about him fondly, although the Host could tell there were certain things he wasn’t saying.  
That was fine, though.

Edward didn’t need to tell him everything. Host was fine with that.

But, what the Host did learn, was that the Author was an extremely dangerous individual, whether by his charms or his thrillers, he was nothing to be trifled with.  
Host shivered at the thought.  
He wasn’t the Author.

It was one of the things he was certain of.

“Who are you?”

Host jumped a foot in the air at the smooth, curious voice of the Monochromatic Ego. Host tapped the side of his mug nervously, noting the tea was still hot. He cleared his throat, trying to make it so that his voice didn't crack under the weight of his anxiety. “P-pardon?”

Dark walked into the kitchen gracefully, his cane helping him along.  
Host “saw” that he had a slight limp. ‘Curious..’ he thought, wondering the cause of such.  
He already knew that Darkiplier was…. Interesting.

“ You’re clearly not Author, although you have his body and wear his skin. Your actions and moves are unlike his, so, who are you?”  
Dark questioned patiently, taking a seat across from the Blind Ego.

Host’s mind supplied that his posture was calm, but tense as always, seemingly carrying the weight of the world on those Suited shoulders. His hands were clasped on the counter in front of him, and his face was impassive, eyebrows and lips quirked in a curious manner.  
Such an interesting character Darkiplier was. 

The Host’s evaluations almost prevented him from responding.

“I…. His name is the Host.” he stated quietly, and his narrations told him that Dark nodded.  
“Ah, excellent. Thank you for confirming as such. I suppose the Library was made for you?”

Host almost balked at the casual, calm response, as if he didn’t just confirm that Host was a different person entirely, as if he didn't confirm that the Author was gone.  
It gave the Host some kind of relief.  
His shoulders relaxed, only a little, but noticeable to the eyes of Darkiplier.  
Host nodded to the question, offering Dark a little, unsure smile.

“The Library seems to be connected to the Host; the writer having taken residence in the expanse made for him. He feels… content there.” he answers quietly, his grip on his mug loosening.

Dark smiled. “You’ve gained an eloquence lost by the Author.” he chuckled, a small, genuine sound that made Host think Dark didn’t laugh as much (and as genuinely) as he should.

Host gave a matching chuckle at the compliment. “It seems Darkiplier has his own way with words. The Host wonders if the Leader writes anything; such as poems. Music, perhaps.” Host said smoothly, and Dark shifted, one of his broken vertebrae snapping violently into place. The ringing (previously at a level almost unable to be heard) shifted up an octave, accentuating the wince of pain Dark showed.   
“Yes. I did, once upon a time since passed. Perhaps I should take it up again, as a hobby.”  
Host nodded in approval, a crease in his brow.  
“The Host thinks that is a good idea. Does Dark need help?... he seems as if he’s in pain.”

Dark huffed, and shook his head, Host’s narrations picking up the other Ego’s body and posture clenched in pain.  
“No. I thank you for the offer, but there is no need.” he gritted out slowly, his hands clenching over the table.

Well, now the Host wanted to help out of spite.  
But he didn’t tell Dark that.  
Instead, he hesitated, before muttering something under his breath.

A smile wormed its way onto the Host’s lips as his narrations told him how Dark relaxed to his normal posture, and the apparent confusion to the lack of pain.  
Dark adjusted his suit casually. “Well; one thing you and Author share is the fact that you have selective hearing.” deadpanned the Leader, trying to cover up the immense relief he felt.  
Host smirked, and let out a small chuckle.

“Only when necessary, Darkiplier.” he answered softly, feeling more relaxed despite the use of his powers.

That moment was when Dr.Iplier decided to re-enter the room, staring at the two older ego’s sitting parallel to each other. The Doctor blinked. “Uh… Host?”   
The Host nodded, his head tilting in the direction of his doctor. “The Host greets the Doctor with a pleasant grin.” he, indeed, was wearing a content smile upon his features.  
Dr. Iplier raised an eyebrow to Dark.  
Dark gave him a matching expression.

The Leader stood up gracefully, nodding to both of the Ego’s. “Pleasant talking to you, Host. thank you for humoring my inquiries.”  
Host nodded, and smiled. “He thanks Darkiplier for being understanding.”

Dark tipped his head, and left the room, the gentle clicking of his silver-topped cane following him.

When Dark was out of earshot, the Doctor rushed to Host’s side, asking him questions back and forth. Host just smiled softly, and hushed his doctor, insisting that he was fine and the interaction took nothing out of him. He included the fact that it was actually quite pleasant, especially for the feared Darkiplier.

Host gained another friend.  
He felt a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was really fun to do. I love both the Host and the Author, and I love to write them.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!
> 
> I love you all!!


End file.
